


Song Restored

by laEsmeralda



Series: Linnod [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5816014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Legolas must sort out what he began with Aragorn and Frodo, and Arwen turns to him for help with her stubborn husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song Restored

"Are you well?" Gimli asked with concern. His hands, close over Legolas' heart as they rode in the caravan, had felt the quickening when Aragorn passed, with nothing more than a nod between man and elf. 

He had known since Helm's Deep, when he saw Aragorn's return and the earnest exchange over Arwen's gift. That day, Gimli had wondered how he could have been so blind as to miss for so long what suddenly glowed unabashed in his dear friend's eyes. His heart went out to Legolas. 

Gimli never spoke of it, waiting patiently until Legolas would feel free. He felt no breach of their trust, knowing that a bond of silence to the lover was more important.

"I am suitably well," Legolas replied. He was aware of Gimli's additional concern almost from the moment it had begun in the human stronghold, as Gimli was no concealer of his feelings. Thus, Legolas knew that his friend recognized the cause for his present disquiet.  
********

Legolas had last lain with Aragorn on the road back to Ithilien. Battle-weariness and anticipation of the changes soon to come lent particular desperation to their passion that late afternoon.

"Do not turn away, Aragorn," Legolas said in frustration, "I do not mind that it takes a little time." He looked down at the broad shoulders that angrily hunched as Aragorn lay on his side facing the tent wall.

Aragorn did not speak. He had never before faltered in responding to Legolas, no matter the danger or the need to steal but a few moments here and there. Despite the clamor of the camp below that would, oddly, protect their privacy, he was at a loss. He thought back on what led to this moment of inability.  
**

Together they had chosen the afternoon, in part so that no lamplight would reveal their shadows. 

"I wish to see my lover this time," Aragorn said low and warm, running the whetstone along Anduril's blade. He did not look at Legolas. "I have been at a disadvantage these many nights in the dark." 

The statement brought an increasingly rare smile to the elf's mouth. "I had not noticed any deficiency," Legolas whispered in reply.

No one who guarded the hill chosen for Elessar's tent would think anything of either of his nonhuman battle partners visiting him. Having seen the three fight back to back to back with the most extraordinary valor, the troops had accepted the elf and the dwarf as nearly a physical extension of their leader.

Even so, Legolas had been careful to let any who watched see that he brought bandages and herbs with him. Most knew that Elessar healed others on a daily basis and that his own wounds had been going largely untended, for he regarded them as too minor for attention.

Legolas had tied the tent flap fast behind him as if trying to give Aragorn every reassurance of privacy. No one would burst in on them even in the unlikely event of a camp panic. 

Nonetheless, Aragorn felt that thousands of eyes marked the time of the comings and goings, and it would take but one suspicious mind to judge. He did not realize that Gimli watched as well, prepared to protect them from any interruption; that would have completely unmanned him.

At first, their lips met without hesitation, and Aragorn began to lose himself again in the feel of the archer's strong arms around him, strength that reminded him that he did not always have to be the leader. Legolas' skin beneath his fingers yielded like the soft sand of a sunny riverbank, warm, luxurious, and elusive, and Aragorn relaxed into the embrace. 

Aware that time was short, Legolas began pulling clothing off them both, seeking the feel of skin on skin as soon and for as long as possible. "Do not worry," Legolas' voice was ragged already with need, but he sensed Aragorn's hesitation, "I will not sing." 

Indeed, the elf had not sung in months. Despite that holding back, Legolas would trade this loving for nothing on earth. He was ragingly hard and, in haste, his nimble fingers actually fumbled with the laces of his leggings. He abandoned them and fell to his knees, stripping Aragorn's breeches down as he went.

His mouth was not gentle, as he was starved for the feel of the man's shaft against his tongue, for the sweet-salt taste that distinguished him from elven lovers. Legolas knew this body well, and turned his hands and lips to making Aragorn tremble. The sway of Aragorn's hips and the pressure of his hands told Legolas that, despite the oppressive silence, his efforts were appreciated.

Soon, Aragorn gently pressed on Legolas' jaw, withdrawing and kneeling to pull him down to the pallet. Aragorn's hands then completed what Legolas could not do, and the elf sighed, a whispered moan, as he was freed from his leggings and their naked bodies settled together at last.

They luxuriated in long kisses, the affection they could not show before others welling up in them, a demand for expression through mouths kept soft and tender. Aragorn could feel extraordinary wetness exuding from Legolas, their shafts sliding together as they kissed. Legolas reached between them to grasp Aragorn, sending a shiver just ahead of his touch. 

Suddenly, Aragorn could sense that Legolas was foregoing his usual slow pace in favor of the time they could not spare. That awareness caught him wrongly, just as someone dropped a pile of armaments loudly in the camp. 

As he felt himself soften, he ever so gently rolled Legolas to one side and turned the other way. It was perhaps the worst possible response. Aragorn knew it, knew he should instead put himself aside and reach to please this lover who always put him first.  
**

That Legolas did not _mind_ it taking more time was rather not the point. If they truly had any time, there would be no problem.

Legolas rose up then and curled around him tightly, refusing to withdraw. "Do not pull away," he whispered, "come back to me these last minutes and kiss me. In the end, that is what I most want." 

Aragorn's eyes closed in remorse. He rolled over and gathered the long limbs and body to him. "Forgive me." It was easy then to comply with the elf's request, with brown hands tangled in silver hair. Legolas' sweet breath of the forest panted into his mouth between their kisses. 

A vibration tickled Aragorn's mind. He realized that Legolas was meditating, trying to be fully present in the moment, making it last as long as possible. As their legs tangled together, bellies touched slickly, and Aragorn stirred again.

He took no risk that he would fade this time. His hand went to the small of the elegant back, crushing their bodies together hard. Legolas looked straight into Aragorn's eyes and made no attempt to conceal the range of feelings that passed through his meditative state: lust, anger, love, sadness...and fear, playing at the edges of his consciousness.

Aragorn was unaccustomed to seeing fear in Legolas, and something fiercely protective arose in him. He let the love that he felt for this being, love that he kept safely put away, wash over them both as emotion grappled with all the things they knew could not be. 

They passed this rhythm between them, back and forth, the pace rushing forward. Aragorn was careful to heed their responses, reckless though he seemed. With a final kiss, their tongues and hips stroking together, he brought Legolas to climax just before he let himself follow, and felt vibrate through him what would have been sung to him in a different world. They clung to each other for a few minutes after, breathing together.

Aragorn felt heartache in them both as they dried and dressed. With a last, wistful press of his lips, Legolas turned to untie the tent flap and was gone.  
*******

Since that day, Aragorn seemed to have forgotten the promises of Lórien, and Legolas could not feel him calling. After a week of such distance, Legolas in his dignity simply stepped aside, feeling at last that Aragorn's heat for him had cooled. Without hurry, Legolas had gradually drawn Arod back in the caravan, away from Aragorn's entourage, with Gimli saying nothing on it. 

Finally, they rode comfortably with Gandalf who drove the cart in which Sam and Frodo lay unconscious. 

"Ah, my friends, I was growing long in thought back here by myself." Gandalf seemed genuinely pleased and lightened the mood immediately. 

"How fare our bravest ones today?" Legolas asked. 

Gandalf puffed on his pipe for a bit. "They are fragile and badly injured," the wizard replied, "but I am confident that they will return to us."

"They are not to be underestimated," Gimil added with a chuckle, "Do not be fooled by the soft skin and pretty eyes, that's the warning I would give."

"And, of course, the healing powers of Elessar will be of great assistance in their recovery even before we reach Ithilien. He comes every morning at dawn to lay hands on them." It was not a pointed comment, but a gentle warning. Legolas met Gandalf's eyes for a moment and nodded.

Each day, just before Aragorn came to give healing to the hobbits, Legolas made certain to slip away.  
*******

After resting in the beautiful forest for a time, the Fellowship had come to Minas Tirith at last, with many about them at all times. Aragorn was spending every waking moment becoming the king and preparing to become Arwen's husband. He had remained familiar and kind to Legolas, but avoided being alone with him, preventing anything that could inflame their passion again. 

Aragorn's polite requests for assistance with state duties came via page, in formal letters. Legolas would look amused upon reading, then would go about his tasks with happiness nonetheless, glad to have a purpose, to be wanted in some important way if not in others.

Frodo and Sam were still battered and hollowed out by their ordeal. The four hobbits, reunited, were inseparable; they chose to crowd all of their pallets into one bedchamber. Gandalf went about arranging a house for himself and them as well, but he was particular, and it would take time. 

"We're forming our own Shire delegation," announced Pippin smugly. "All these big folk about, we need to stick together until we go home."

Legolas smiled and squeezed the hobbit's shoulder with affection. "You and Merry are nearly big folk yourselves now thanks to Treebeard. Have a care with your prejudices."

"Besides," Merry interjected, whispering, "Sam is healing up nicely, but Frodo is so... shadowy. He's just not himself. We figured he couldn't very well stay that way with all three of us cheerful lot around."

"Either you will heal him with your antics or drive him to heal himself in self-defense, an excellent plan with no chance of failure," Legolas laughed to reassure the hobbits, but he understood the situation to be grave.

"Aragorn and Gandalf have been trying to help him," Pippin said, more soberly, "it's not working very fast even with the both of them. And Elrond has not come yet."

After that conversation, Legolas slipped into the hobbits' room each night as they slept, and without waking them, wove for Frodo a secret song of tenderness and healing. Gandalf saw him come and go, smiled, and remained silent. 

Each time, Legolas stroked the frightfully translucent skin of Frodo's face and throat, careful not to stir him, transferring to him as much joy of life as his touch could convey. His eyes filled with pity each time he looked upon the small hand swathed in bandages. Even in the sadness the elf felt at the damage done to Frodo, touching him again was a warming act. They had only one night, now a year past. With renewed contact, Legolas found that he wished for more.

Each day, Frodo had a little more color in his cheeks, with no knowledge of the assistance of his midnight visitor. In the daytime, he saw little of Legolas, as the youngest Prince of Mirkwood was busy with diplomatic duties. 

Though their interactions were few, Frodo felt that his friend was always careful to take note of him and give a gentle caress that spoke of more than camaraderie. One of these times, Frodo caught the hand that grazed his cheek and pressed it to his lips. His eyes asked Legolas for more.

"Frodo," the soft voice responded, "I meant what I said back in Lórien." Impulsively, Legolas bent and kissed Frodo lovingly, mourning the exhaustion and pain that the strong body could not shed. His tongue flicked ever so softly against Frodo's. The hobbit responded from the center of his being, but with great weariness. For Frodo, as much as he wanted it, the kiss did not progress into heat. Legolas pulled away gently. "Now is not the time for more. You are too vulnerable."

"I am sorry."

"Shhh. You have nothing to regret. I would have given my life for you. In my heart, even when we despaired of the news we heard of you, I knew you would live. But nothing prepared me for my feeling upon seeing you again." The intensity of the elf's emotion was unmistakable. "I will happily wait, Frodo. I have time." 

Each night that he went to Frodo in secret, Legolas retired to his own chambers late and alone. Only then, he would release himself to recollections of a single night, Frodo's mouth on him, hot and greedy. He strained against his hands in the dark of his room, conjuring the scent and feel of his friend until he came hard.

Only sometimes, he allowed himself to think of Aragorn instead.  
*******

One morning, Legolas awoke to feel a strange heaviness on his chest--a warm, yielding heaviness. He did not have to look under the blanket to know that Frodo slept against him, and he smiled. Gently, he rolled with the limp hobbit so that Frodo was cradled on one arm, and he bent to kiss him awake. From far away, Frodo responded, swirling his tongue against the elf's. One advantage of Frodo's deep exhaustion was that kisses could last so much longer, they were sweeter, and languid. 

Legolas, however, was far from exhausted. He could feel himself harden against Frodo's thigh just from the soft touch of lips and tongues. Frodo's lashes fluttered open, and he sighed into the kiss, tickling Legolas in a most pleasant way. 

Legolas moved his lips away slightly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this morning?"

Frodo smiled up at him. "I love you."

"Mmmm, a worthy reason, but did you decide today?" Legolas bent to give another moist caress that lasted for a long time. 

When they breathed again, Frodo said, "I have loved you constantly, as you know, but this is the first day I am strong enough to awake early and make my way here. The stewards have put us at opposite ends of the castle, it seems."

"And I love you," Legolas said, running his fingers up a cheek as soft as a rabbit's fur, wishing that he could stir Frodo to passion, "no matter the distance."

"It is not the same for each of us," Frodo replied, "I know this, and as I said before, I am well with what we do have. Very well." He drew Legolas down for more kisses. At last, he spoke again. "I have asked Gandalf about going to Rivendell. I know that you and Gimli have other plans. We will not be together much longer, all of us."

"No, but some of us will be together again."

"I am unable to be with you as I want during these last days, and it frustrates me beyond bearing." Tears sparkled on Frodo's lashes.

"Frodo, there is something I want you to know and I sense that now is the time to tell you." He stroked a thumb over Frodo's cheekbone. "I give you my promise that I will come to you in the Shire later in this year, after you have rested. If you will have me."

Frodo rose on his elbows. "Have you? I fear only that your immortal time will pass more slowly than mine, and you will forget."

"Nay, sweet one, I will come to you at least once a year, so long as you dwell in Middle Earth."

"Remember, Legolas, I was born to love no other." 

The elf smiled, touched to the core. "May that not be true, Frodo, I think there will be others. It is no insult to me to live your life to the fullest in every way." Legolas grinned then, "Perhaps you should find another soon, as it seems I am not strong enough to move you." He loved seeing the white teeth of Frodo's smile, the little gap that sometimes caught the elf's tongue sharply.

"I know I am ill indeed to not harden at the mere thought of you, let alone while wrapped in your limbs and hair and kisses." Frodo frowned a little. "Speaking of hardness, this is uncomfortable for you, is it not? I had not considered that."

Legolas chuckled. "I am no adolescent to feel that arousal cannot exist for its own sake. Sometimes it is delightful just to feel such response in yourself, to go about life with that delicious ache, and not answer it." 

"Since we have no privacy in 'the hobbit house.' I had thought to come here as often as possible, to be close with you as much as I can, but it is selfish."

"I would have it no other way, Frodo."

"It will be easier for me to come to you in the early mornings as I did today when I have had the most rest. How will I know if you are alone?"

Legolas laughed wryly. "No one else shares my bed or has for some time."

"What of Aragorn?"

"He is changing, much for him is changing. I have fallen away from his mind, and I draw him no longer."

"I cannot believe that," Frodo soothed.

"Do not worry for me. My love for Aragorn remains, but I do not pine for him even as I still want him."

"But are you unattended in love, with all the beautiful elves about?" Frodo's wide eyes were earnest.

Legolas smiled back into those depths. "I have kept to myself of late. I find it is necessary to balance my times of plenty with times of abstinence. It is important to be alone."

"Have you been entirely celibate?" Frodo seemed astonished.

"Well, no," Legolas grinned with mischief, "I have rarely in my life gone without self-pleasure."

Frodo snuggled in closer, "Do you ever think of me?" He blushed, but his voice was thick with desire.

Legolas groaned and stretched. "You are an evil creature to ask that. Yes. Nearly every night since I started coming to your room..." he stopped himself too late.

"When have you been there? How did I not know?" Frodo sat up abruptly.

"It would have worked at cross-purposes for you to be awake. In your deepest sleep, I have been singing to you, trying to help the others heal you."

"Did you touch me as well?" Frodo asked warmly, "I dreamed so."

"Yes, lovely one, but not like that. Only your face and throat, your ears, the skin just over your heart--to strengthen the bond between your spirit and body."

"For how long?"

"An hour each time, for these two weeks."

"You have given of yourself in this way and would not have told me." Frodo's voice trembled with contained emotion.

"I did not mean to tell you..." Legolas gasped as a firm hand suddenly encircled his shaft.

"You breathtaking creature." Frodo leaned down and enveloped a nipple in his mouth, keeping his tongue soft to sweep back and forth over the tightening skin.

Legolas shuddered. "I thought you were not able."

Frodo drew his mouth away but a moment. "I am able to give you a pleasuring that you well deserve. You may return the favor when I am _more_ able." With that, he set about making Legolas sing a desperate song. 

Dressing for the day in his room down the hall, Gimli smiled.  
*******

The wedding of Arwen and Aragorn on Mid-Year's Day was a joy tinged with sadness for Legolas. He was, most of all, deeply glad to see Arwen and Aragorn happy at last. The event celebrated fruition for the Fellowship of all the individual sacrifices of the quest and the war. The marriage itself mended Middle Earth for many, marking the survival of elves and men together, even as the elves were leaving. 

His eyes were clear when he stepped toward the King, face naked and smiling with their secrets. There was a moment of startlement in Aragorn's eyes, and then, Legolas lowered his gaze and stepped aside with a sweeping gesture to reveal that Arwen had arrived. All was made right.

At the first wedding banquet, Legolas watched with satisfaction the gathering of so many he called friends. Galadriel, radiant in silver, raised her glass to him with a secret smile, and he bowed his head to accept her silent compliment. Later, he drew her aside.

Galadriel spoke first. "You are looking well, my cousin," she said, low and amused, "although I think we have not the King to thank for that these days."

"You are observant indeed, Lady."

She glanced to the head table. "And Frodo is in love." Legolas nodded once but did not speak. She added, "Legolas, he could choose no better."

"I do not deserve his love, though; I am divided as ever."

"He cares not, for he feels your love in full measure without division. He is happy." She smiled, and her ancient eyes were filled with kindness. "Why do you not let yourself be happy again as well? The war is over." 

Legolas returned the smile wanly. "There has been much death, a good deal of it by my hands. However just, the blood-spill takes its toll upon me. I will be well in time, but not yet."

Galadriel held his gaze without intruding into his mind, and she laid a hand on his arm in comfort. "Dance with me, Legolas. None other than my husband has that privilege, not even the King. I would have them all see you honored."

He bowed low and rose again with amusement playing at his lips. "Lady Galadriel, I fear only that Gimli, though my dearest friend, may sever my head in jealousy."

She laughed joyfully. "It is beneath both his dignity and mine to make such a parody as we would in dancing. Do not worry, I have honored Gimli to his satisfaction. You may ask on it later. The others as well, each to my sense of them. And I have chosen this for myself as much as for you." 

He quirked an eyebrow. "How so?"

"My Lord Celeborn does not enjoy the dance. None of us will dance aboard ship, and you will not travel with us. Select something of length and variation, Legolas, for I think I will not have this particular opportunity again for many years to come." Her lovely smile flashed with mischief and he could not refuse.

With requisite formality, he took her hand and stepped to the middle of the hall, hearing murmurs begin and grow to sweep the room. With another bow, he pressed palm to palm with her, signaling his choice, and the minstrels took their cue.

Even as many of the elves, and a few brave others, ventured to join the spirited couple, most other eyes were riveted to them. The beads on Galadriel's gown shimmered in the candlelight, swirling against the soft background of dove-colored velvet provided by her partner. Their sinuous and intricate movements, and the contrast of drums with the play of light, were hypnotic.

Gimli, seated between Éowyn and Éomer, felt his mouth go dry as all conversation around them ceased mid-sentence.

"Middle Earth will never be the same without the elves," Éowyn whispered. "It will be forever without such grace and music as this." 

Faramir stroked her cheek. "Then, my Love, enjoy the beauty of these days without sadness, in their honor," He was earnest and smiling, "Look at them, they are exuberant tonight, not sad. Tonight is for play, not grief." She leaned to kiss him and found that he was right.

"Éomer, have you ever seen anything so lovely as my friend and the light of morning together?" Gimli sighed, a quiver in his hearty voice, "These two jewels break my heart." He drank deeply and slammed his cup to the table, bringing a page scurrying to refill it.

The handsome Rohirrim leaned aside in his chair and studied Gimli for a moment, keeping half an eye himself on the silver couple. "I would ask you a very private question, Master Dwarf. Please forgive me in advance." Gimli nodded silently. "Have you a claim to Legolas?" Éomer asked, his voice low and confidential.

Without moving his eyes from Legolas, Gimli replied, "A year ago, at those words, Marshal of the Mark, I would have required you to step to the courtyard to meet my axe. Indeed, it would be our second challenge of the day, would it not?" He chuckled and drank again. "But I well understand you now. I have nor want no claim to him, save as my dearest friend." He raised his cup and gestured to the hall filled with people. "I fear, however, that your competition will be fierce and from unexpected quarters." 

Éomer's brows raised in surprise. "I have no such intentions. Though I would have no shame in claiming them." He paused and his eyes went back to the dancers. "I am a man of hard life and battle scars, but I am young, and it seems folly not to take pleasure where it may be found. I wager that nearly all here harbor secret thoughts of that one's favors. I recognize what is outside my grasp." 

"Only due to strange circumstances, Éomer. You would have drawn him but for his other ties."

"Thank you for that, but my question lies elsewhere. It has stayed with me, since we came upon you in Rohan, that you stood for one another that day with something more than comradeship."

"Aye. I love him like no other in my life. I will never leave him long while I draw breath. But it is not of the body. Simply not."

Eomer sighed and raised his cup to Gimli. "Oh, to have such friends."

"Indeed. Intolerable and irresistible at once." He smiled broadly.

As the drums stilled together with a boom, Galadriel and Legolas stood chest to chest, palm to palm, hands low by their hips, foreheads bowed to one another's shoulders, as paired swans sleeping on the lake. After a moment of quiet, the hall erupted in cheering and stomping.

The King, for his part, could not move. He breathed shallow breaths and felt the blood thrumming hard through his body, into his loins. He flushed with shame. His wedding night, and he could respond thus to another. Arwen's hand on his arm felt hot, and he feared her senses would tell her his need and its source. 

To his great surprise, then, she clapped and stomped along with the humans, in decidedly unelven fashion, her head thrown back with delighted laughter. He saw Legolas turn and bow to her with sincere deference. Legolas did not look to the King, but graced him with a deep nod, hand clasped over his heart. Aragorn noted that Galadriel's cheeks were flushed charmingly pink, and he felt an angry stab of jealousy, at the same time chastising himself for it.

He filled his cup again, forcing his breath to come evenly, forcing his eyes away from the archer. He knew that Legolas had selected his garb to be understated, that he strove to stay away, to be invisible in the shadows until thwarted by Galadriel's request. The quiet clothing, the attempt itself, drew Aragorn irresistibly, emphasized the radiance that no one could ignore. That the glowing, well-explored skin and sinew were hidden under soft grey, without adornment save the spill of bright hair, was nearly unbearable. 

Suddenly, Arwen's hand was on him under the table, under his heavy wedding tunic, brazenly holding him, hard through his breeches. He froze. She did not look at him, and continued her conversation unbroken with Elladan. But her hand.... Her hand moved with slow purpose, and his breath caught hard in his throat. He trembled as he reached for the pitcher of wine and poured his cup full, spilling a few drops of red on the snowy cloth. Fortunately, Elrond had gone into the dance, leaving the chair to his right momentarily empty of its stern occupant.

Down the table, Beregond, his mood buoyant with several drinks, elbowed Pippin significantly. "See you the look on the white elf-maid? She is smitten." 

Pippin punched him in the arm. "Beware, she is a great enchantress, such as are not smitten, even by Prince Legolas. Nor is she a maid, but the Lady of Lórien and her Lord is there." He pointed to Celeborn, who smiled at the couple with complete serenity. "I wager she is ever loyal."

"Oh, I think you are wrong, hobbit. I know that look in a woman. What do you wager?"

"It is the dance," said Frodo as he slipped back into his seat next to Sam, "Legolas sent word to Arwen that he chose the swan dance in her honor. She tells me it is a dance that no woman's heart may resist."

"What's all this to do about swans? Confounded cryptic elves." Beregond shook his head.

Éowyn gained their attention by setting another pitcher of ale before them with the force of her sword arm. "My friends, swans mate for life," she said, her tone light but suggesting more than one meaning. Gimli paled to overhear her, realizing then that she had seen what he had at Helms Deep. But he knew her to be loyal, and when he met her eyes, he saw nothing but goodwill.

Frodo watched with parted lips as Legolas tenderly kissed Galadriel's forehead and passed her hand with reverence to Celeborn. He startled when Legolas turned with purpose and strode toward him, eyes changing gently from brown to silver as he paced slowly forward. 

Aragorn watched Legolas pass by without a look to him. Suffused with the elf-warrior's scent, Aragorn felt Arwen bring his will to heel. He flexed his thighs hard against his chair and spilled into his breeches with nary a sound. He fought to keep his eyes open, his left arm braced to the table, the right hand still clasped to the chalice before him.

Arwen leaned to his ear while he still struggled for breath. "You are irresistible, my husband," she said deliciously, "more than strong enough to spill for him and harden again for me." Indeed, the sound of her voice alone effected recovery, and he smiled in spite of himself.

Frodo's heart pounded, and he felt the entire room watch Legolas advance with any questions falling swiftly away. When the prince knelt before him, he thought the world had gone mad. Frodo could feel Sam straighten beside him in surprise.

"Ring-bearer," the voice held strong and clear to those around him despite the music and noise, and the warm smile with which they were given, "Frodo, I am yours first, for the rest of your time in Middle Earth. If you will have me." 

Frodo placed both hands lovingly on the silken head before him. "I would refuse you not, no matter the time or the pledge." He bent lower to whisper to Legolas. "But do not offer what is not yours to promise, my Love. I know your heart."

At those words, Legolas lifted his head and kissed Frodo, before the entire host, unashamed. It was the unmistakable kiss of the lover, lingering, yet there was nothing vulgar about it.

Beregond cleared his throat, ale dripping from his beard. "Well, there is a wholly unexpected turn of events."

Merry wiped his mouth from the foam of yet another pint. "See, my friend, that is because you have not been paying attention. Have another drink." He lowered his voice. "Pippin, explain to Beregond why we have to go and find the ents for Frodo."

Across the horseshoe table, Gimli beamed, and raised his cup again, elbowing Éomer.

"Well, that explains a few things," Éomer said, dryly.

Gimli gestured in explanation. "The hobbit is warmth for the elf's spirit. The elf is healing for the hobbit's heart. It is a good match."

Éomer rubbed his eyes with one hand, his white teeth gleaming. "I fear, Gimli, that the image this presents rather startles me and leaves me with many questions."

"You must learn, Éomer, that in all things, with proper motivation, there are few true obstacles." 

Éomer laughed out loud. "Well said, Master Dwarf, I will remember it."  
*******

Much later, Sam and Gandalf walked in the gardens, smoking their pipes.

"Gandalf, I admit I'm over ready to go home."

"Yes, I imagine you are, Sam. How many hobbit lifetimes do you feel you have lived in this one so far?"

Sam shook his head. "Everything is so strange. I mean, it's good and all in the end. But strange."

"Are you thinking of Frodo just now?" 

"And Legolas. In all the time that Mr. Frodo and I traveled, and talked and talked, I never knew that anything had come of his feelings for Legolas. And I thought we told each other everything."

"You didn't suspect?"

"Well, when we thought you had died, he got so strange over Legolas for a time. I thought it was just the singing."

Gandalf choked a little at that, trying to hide a smile in the face of Sam's persistent innocence. He made a show of checking and relighting his pipe. "Well, perhaps he knew you didn't approve." Even in the dim light of the torches, and the glow of pipes, Gandalf could see the color rise in Sam's face. 

"I don't like to be thought narrow-minded, Sir, and I like being caught at it even less."

"Do his feelings trouble you now?"

"Not the way they did then. Only that I don't want to see him hurt. He's got his health to think of, and his writing, and getting on with his life."

"Love, Sam, is part of getting on with life. You have love waiting for you in the Shire. Why shouldn't Frodo have it too, as long as it lasts? What makes you so certain Legolas would be the one to leave?"

"He wouldn't mean to, I know that. But he's so unlike us, and he's a wanderer, isn't he?"

"He was, for a purpose, as a duty to his family. Do not mistake that for not wanting a hearth and a home."

"And everyone is always after him. He seems to take it so lightly. Like it's expected. I worry about all that playing about when Mr. Frodo is so serious."

"I do not think what we saw tonight was given lightly. Frodo has a lighter side as well. There is nothing at all wrong with playing about with the right sort. Makes life worth living." Gandalf smiled to himself. He considered another moment and spoke gently. "Are you jealous, Sam?"

Sam was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, he spoke with a sheepish grin. "Maybe so, Gandalf, I'm just trying to figure out who of."

The wizard chuckled deeply. "A dilemma indeed."

"But it's not what we were just talking about, it's who they are and I'm not. They have this greatness and beauty and... passion."

"You continue to underestimate yourself, as I think you will discover in time."

"Besides, they're together now, and I have months to go before I'm home."

"I know, believe me."

"What about you, Gandalf, are you always alone?"

"That, Sam, is a tale for a long ride. Which we shall soon have."

They sat side by side on a bench, quiet for a long while. Then, an eerie singing began, far away in the castle. First one voice, then another, a chorus.

"Oh, here we go again," muttered Sam, "just like Lórien."

"You cannot expect, even among all these humans, that the elves would let this night pass unmarked. They honor the bride and groom, and at the same time, protect the couple's privacy. Charming, I think."

"At least I don't hear Legolas," Sam grumbled good-naturedly.

Gandalf grinned with certain knowledge of the elf's double frustration, but he spoke more discreetly. "No, I imagine you won't. Not with Frodo so ill. You should have more sympathy for our elf, for he is honorable and he suffers for it."

"I will try to keep that in mind," Sam replied, wryly. "But I suppose Frodo will stay with him tonight."

"Somehow, I think not. In any event, the hobbit house does have good solid windows and it's a cool night for summer. Shall we go home and close up?" Gandalf tapped out his pipe.

"Sounds just right. Will we have to carry Merry and Pip, though?"

"More likely we'll have to see Beregond to his chambers for trying to keep up with them. Here come the rascals now."  
*******

Legolas walked with Frodo to the hobbit house door. "Are you certain that you do not want to stay with me tonight? I will hold you. Just that." His heart was full of love and he wanted Frodo to know it.

Frodo's eyes sparkled happily despite the low light. "Sit for a moment?" Legolas settled at his behest on the wooden bench by the door. "I am moved to my deepest soul by what you did tonight, Legolas, and I know that you meant it." Frodo paused and stepped up to kiss him, his hands brushing velvet-clad thighs. He continued in a more intimate voice, "We also know what the Ring has taken for now, and I will not torture either of us with a whole night in the same bed."

"I care not. Stay with me. We will be months apart soon."

"Nay. There is something else."

"What, Beauty? Tell me why else you would refuse me." Legolas was playful again and Frodo smiled to think of Lórien and a cup of water nearly spilled.

"Your nights here are not for me to share. If that means you are alone, I am certain you will entertain yourself. Your thoughts of me do not suffer my present illness. And if, instead, _he_ comes to his senses, simply leave me the mornings."

Legolas swallowed heavily. "You are not of my kind, and I do not expect you to behave as though you were." He pulled Frodo close, placing them in more intimate contact. "I want you to be happy." 

"I am. Stop doubting my meaning. I am no martyr at heart and I would not give this if it pained me. I have had quite enough pain for one lifetime and there is yet more to come." He shifted to feel more of the hardness against him. "If you come to me in the Shire, I will gladly spend every night in your arms and I may not let you leave my bed at all."

Legolas nuzzled behind Frodo's ear. "You are as soft as the newest fawn of the forest. Yet I have never known another stronger than you."

Frodo sighed with contentment. "I will see you in dawn's light tomorrow. Now, I must find my bed or fall over right here in sleep."  
*******

Breakfast--first breakfast for the hobbits--was late enough to bump into second breakfast. Ale hangover, wine hangover, pipe hangover, or love hangover, no one present seemed unscathed. Frodo and Legolas were absent. 

Gimli had dragged himself grumpily to the tables. "Can anyone spare some hair of the dog?"

"Would you settle for some hair of the Balrog?" Gandalf quipped, passing him a flask. For himself, he settled on a large glass of water, and passed one to Sam as well. 

"You seemed fine last night, Old Wizard," Gimli said gruffly, taking a healthy slug of the liquor. "Eiee, that's a fine draught." 

Sam held his head in his hands. "Well, we got to smoking some more and then Gandalf remembered a gift from Elrond. Some kind of elf whiskey. Ouch. But it seemed that after, I slept like a baby."

"Babies don't snore that loud," Pippin protested.

"As though you could hear anything passed out on the floor," Sam retorted, "you didn't even make it to bed."

"I'm killing the next one who speaks above a whisper," Merry hissed.

"Where's Beregond?" Pippin asked, more softly in deference to Merry.

Gandalf started to chuckle. "Last we saw, he was weaving along nicely after a smiling elf woman. She might very well have slain him if her enthusiasm approached that of the other singers. Perhaps we should send after him. Who will volunteer?" There were no takers.

"Where's Frodo? He certainly didn't overindulge," Merry asked, "and he was out of bed already this morning." Pairs of eyes slid to Gimli.

"Don't expect a report from me." He returned all gazes with mock ferocity. "What's your business anyway?" 

"We just want to know how they're getting on," Pippin replied, coyly.

"Can't you guess?" Sam smiled without reservation this time, his headache easing, and the prospect of many good days to come before him. In the sunlight of morning, he could think only of the glow that returned to Frodo's tired face when he looked upon Legolas.

"Actually," Gimli grinned, "all's so quiet next door, Legolas must be driven to distraction by now."

"Poor fellow," Gandalf said, clucking his tongue, "but I have a distinct feeling his good heart will be repaid in a few months. He should save his strength."

"You know, Merry and I are leaving soon on an errand for Frodo, Ouch!" Pippin cried as Sam's elbow ground into his ribs.

"Hey," Sam hissed in a low whisper, "you two were entrusted with a secret mission for the Ring-bearer, and you're going 'round telling everyone. Shame on you. Don't let me catch you again or I'll thrash you both. You'll spoil Mr. Frodo's plan."

Gandalf smiled broadly, surveying his merry and rough brood of fellows, and for a moment, a mischievous hint of the lost Grey Pilgrim showed through all the white.  
*******

Legolas arose while Frodo still slept, and meditated on the love of his friends. He observed that each would find a good place in the changed world. He was yet unsure of his own role in it. 

Frodo sensed his restlessness and sought to discuss the reason which Legolas kept close. Curled against the elf's smooth back, he spoke carefully. "She is a wonder, really, our Queen. She grew even more breathtaking while we were away."

"My Lady is extraordinary in many ways beyond her surface."

"Do you resent her?" Frodo opted for frankness.

"Never." Legolas was quiet for a few minutes, and Frodo snuggled him close, breathing the soft scent of heather and leaves that filled his dreams. Then, Legolas spoke again. "I would never have gone to Aragorn had she not allowed it. It was a gift for which I am grateful."

Frodo tried not to register his surprise, although much more now made sense. He had struggled to explain how his dear friends would reconcile such a great hurt to Arwen with their sense of honor. He only felt before that the pull between them was too great to ignore. "I understand what draws you to him," Frodo said, "whether Strider, Aragorn, or king, he is strong in my heart."

Legolas mused on this with interest. "Have you ever thought of him in the way I do?" Frodo's cheek grew hot against his back. "Come now, Frodo, you cannot grow silent after such a comment."

"Yes," was the softest of replies, "but not often."

"Why _not often_?" Legolas strove not to chuckle.

"It only began after that night I followed the two of you. Before that, he was a great man, a protector and friend--if sometimes a little frightening to me. You showed me something else in the way you love him." Frodo stroked the platinum hair that spilled over Legolas' shoulder. "I only think of the two of you together, Legolas. It is being with him that makes you happiest, and imagining that is wonderful. Still, I feel as though I am stealing or intruding, so... not often."

Legolas closed his eyes in sudden realization. "I am sorry if I have been too bold in my honesty. You know that I love you. You must feel my desire for you. When I am with you, I think of no other, and I am happiest then as well."

"I do not complain, Legolas." Frodo peppered his shoulder with kisses. "I cannot understand though, how he can resist you."

A wicked idea came to the elf then. "It would please me best if you would think of me alone with you, and the pleasure that we give each other. But if you ever do again imagine me with Aragorn, you should join us." He was rewarded with a small gasp. "I gather you have not done so yet."

"No!" replied Frodo.

"It is most unlikely to ever happen, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy it." He rolled over and gathered Frodo to him. "It may be some time before you are ready, even for such games alone, but when you are, be certain to remember my request, and tell me of it when I see you in the Shire."

Feeling the heated response in the elf's body, Frodo reached for him again, but Legolas stilled his hands.

"I want our pleasure to be mutual. That first morning was glorious, but I would not place us further out of balance. Stay with me as you will, but you must recover before there is more play between us."

Frodo protested until Legolas kissed him to silence. The kissing did not help Legolas to cool.  
*******

That night, after purposefully torturing himself for an hour with various thoughts of Aragorn's lean, brown body, attempting to banish the attraction for a time, Legolas lay spent. Finally, he reached a point of stillness where he thought he might sleep, only to find himself disturbed by the distant vibration of his queen in pleasure. The thick walls and tapestries, and Arwen's attempt at quiet, could not disguise the sound to his spirit, and Legolas knew well why she sang.  
*******

"Did you hear that?" Pippin nearly squeaked.

"Shhh. I can't believe you talked me into this," Sam muttered.

"When did you get so serious? You used to be a fair prankster yourself." Merry seemed offended as he pulled out the cabbages they had pilfered from the kitchen. He set about impaling them on the upraised sword that formed the centerpiece of a fountain facing the royal windows.

Sam crouched lower in the foliage. "Could be torture and near death in Mordor. Even without that, sneaking about outside the King's chambers seems like a very unfunny idea." He blushed. "Especially when the Queen's singing is not intended for an audience."

"I can't believe you can ignore that." Pippin whispered again, transfixed.

"Pippin, honestly, it's not seemly to point it out. You're supposed to ignore it. She's trying to be quiet and we're rustling about too close, invading their privacy. I'm leaving."

"Not yet, you aren't." Merry thrust the bag of feathers into Sam's hands. "Do your job and we're on our way, Oh Mighty Keeper of Propriety." 

Sam dutifully upended the bag into the water. "Yes, you're leaving in the morning and I have to stay and pay your consequences." He smiled good-naturedly. "But at least then I'll have a few days unmolested. I can sleep a whole night in peace without your snoring."  
*******

Legolas arose and donned his shirt and leggings, walking to haunt the deeps and heights of the castle. An hour passed, and he stood by a large window overlooking the city. No woods, no sea, and soon, Frodo would go to Rivendell and then home. 

"Legolas the Silver," sighed the voice of the new queen, startling him. Few could catch him unawares. "Why do you walk alone?"

"Your Majesty," he bowed, "is that a literal or figurative question?" 

She smiled at him. "Do not be so formal; I am only Arwen to you within these walls. Please let me be that somewhere. Else I must be more formal with you, _Prince_." She reached out and touched his hair, catching a lock in her slender fingers. "Do you remember when I came to you, so tongue tied with what I had to say? It is difficult to believe that but a year has passed since."

"The memory will not leave me, Arwen," he said, careful to use her name as she had asked. "I have never thanked you for what you gave me on that day in Rivendell, and what you sent to the Lady of Lorien for me." 

"There is no need for thanks, it is what I wanted for you both, and for myself."

"For yourself?"

"I wanted him to be fulfilled, truly."

"But what of _your_ heart. Was it not painful to bring us together?" She smiled a heartbreaking smile, and his breath caught. 

"You have spent too much time with Aragorn indeed if you begin to see human jealousy where there is none. His absence, and the uncertainty in the future were painful. Beyond measure." She turned to the window, to the few lights of the homes where others were awake as they. "I walked with him in dreams, and in that unguarded place, he spoke with me of you, and I saw and felt the love the three of us share. My heart was always safe, though I feared the war would take him from us both, or take you from us."

"I am glad, for I never wanted you to suffer."

"Suffer?" she laughed lightly, "I suffered long for reasons apart from anything you could have done. But for loving Aragorn, on the path I helped set you, I thank you." 

"The thanking was in the loving," Legolas replied, his voice taking on a deeper edge. "I understand that is over, and thanks must now be given by words." 

Arwen looked at him with surprise. "I will never understand men. Of my own race or others."

"My Lady?"

"Who has led you to think that your loving must stop?" 

A few breaths passed and a dark eyebrow arched in question. "I believe that marriage has changed Aragorn's mind in this. Has it not changed yours?"

"Legolas, you insult me if you think I meant for you to dally and then stop like guilty children caught in a game. He is who he is for life. Are you not?"

"Yes." He was caught off guard, and his heart pounded.

"Like any warrior, you and he have put aside happiness long before death does. But war is over. I will die when he does, or soon after, but in the meantime, I will _live_."

"Let us not speak of it, I cannot bear it." Legolas grasped her arm and spoke fiercely in defense of her life as well as Aragorn's. 

She smiled beatifically. "My life is to be short for an elf, though I have lived long already. I will fill it with what happiness I may and be sad and weary no more." She was radiant, and Legolas found no words to respond. "The comfort for you, Legolas, is that you have an unusually open heart and you will always take others to you. Frodo, for one, our strong, sweet Frodo. It seems that mortals are inexorably drawn to you."

"And I to them, not always for reasons of the flesh. The time is near for my journeys with Gimli to continue for a time--until Frodo reaches the Shire."

"Soon, but not yet, please, not quite yet." She laid a hand over his. "I would ask your assistance."

"I am yours to bid," he answered swiftly.

"Be careful what you offer in advance of the question." Arwen paused and drew a shaky breath, turning her face to the window. "It seems that not just Aragorn, but the two of us together, have want of you." 

Legolas recoiled in surprise. "Together?"

She blushed, "Do not be shocked, please, this is difficult for me as a daughter of Elrond. Do not be put off by the mantle of royalty, and above all, do not mistake me. I wish you not for myself." She touched her throat. "Although I wonder how it is possible I could not, for you are extraordinary." 

He bowed his head. "Explain this to me, Arwen, that I might understand. You bemuse me."

She lightly laid a finger on his chest. "Dear friend, although I may not have my wish in the end, I will speak it to you." She took a deep breath and kept her focus on the center of his shirt. "I wish for you to share our bed, but not me. I wish you to be there when you will, whether or not I am there. I know not how often you will come to Minas Tirith, but when you do, I would welcome you to our chamber. If I have need to be alone, or either of you do, we would know and honor that. Do we not speak to each other without words?" She did not see that Legolas' eyes were wide and shining, for hers were still cast down. 

"Apparently, we do. Am I walking in a dream for you to have so answered my heart in this?"

"We are awake. The strength of your bond with Aragorn speaks to me and I can be silent no longer."

"And Aragorn?"

"My beloved is a stubborn man. He spent too long alone in the wilds over the years, and takes pride in stoicism. He thinks he must deny himself. It comes from feeling unworthy, even now, of his place." She sighed, "And he is no elf. I have implored him to go to you, or to bring you to him. He will not hear me. At last, I may speak to someone of it." 

Legolas lifted her chin with a finger and looked in her dark blue eyes though she shied a little. "Perhaps, Arwen, he no longer wants me."

Her silken hair moved with the shake of her heard. "He is not aware, as I am, that he says your name in his sleep. That his nostrils flare when you pass, for all your effort not to be near him. With all the loving he lavishes on me, he still lusts for you. I want you to hear the call he cannot send, and answer."

"You move me beyond words." 

Her small hands came to rest quietly on his shoulders. "Will you be well with this, Legolas? I am asking you to share him, without knowing if it will pain you, if putting him aside would be easier. Tonight, I know why you wander these halls, and I am sorry. I felt you, as I have on occasion these weeks."

Legolas paled a little. "I meant no disrespect. I did not know you could... sense that." 

She stepped closer. "Your want is no disrespect. I only know your pleasure because it is so strong in his mind--though he thinks it is _only_ in his mind." Arwen leaned her forehead against his chest, not wanting to look at him as she spoke. "When you are both in passion at once, no mere walls or distance in this castle can still the call even though you do not sing." 

Legolas could formulate no worthy response. His belly tightened at the thought of Aragorn feeling him those many rooms away, and he shifted back from Arwen a little to shield her from his hardness.

"The last secret of my heart this night, is that I wish to be there when you answer him, to see and feel what passes between you. I would like to... to join him in this and know his joy, without actually...." She faltered.

He smiled then, feeling the heat of her face through his shirt and moved to stroke her hair tenderly. "I believe I understand that you do not wish my touch in that way." He could not resist lightening the mood. "I should be insulted if I did not know his skill." 

Arwen actually giggled a little. "Do not be absurd. I am only old-fashioned."

"Not _very_ , I think," he replied, shaking his head in wonder. "And you would not deny yourself the pleasure of him if I am there?"

Arwen sighed. "I fear that seeing him with me will not be to your liking." 

"It is not jealousy that has pained me, but separation. You are attempting to end that." He felt her relax against him then. "As to the rest, do not mistake my love for Aragorn or Frodo for the forsaking of women. You are beautiful to me, Undomiel. The love between you and Aragorn runs deep and is inspiring to behold." He smoothed her cheek through the dark veil of her hair. 

But for her shyness, he would have said more. He would have told her about the caresses Aragorn employed that Legolas knew had come from loving Arwen. He wondered if she felt the same of him since Aragorn had returned to her. 

He could have told her of occasional moments near Aragorn's climax when Legolas could feel in the ranger's mind a swirling mixture of experiencing Arwen and experiencing Legolas, the distinction blurring. 

Once, in Aragorn's embrace, the man's mouth driving him wild, Legolas felt instead that he entered the pulsing heat of a female body and knew with sudden shock that it was his lover's memory of Arwen's orgasm that he felt breaking over him, bringing his release with it. He was burning now with the recollection, and there was no shielding her from it. She did not draw away. "Arwen, you must forgive my brash response, again, I mean no disrespect to you. I seem to be somewhat lacking in self-control at the moment."

There was a muffled laugh against his chest. "I understand that it is not about me. If it were, I would be flattered, but it would make things more difficult."

"I pledge that you and I will be like siblings in this house and not lovers. But you should know that all Aragorn's passions are of note to me, and I have enjoyed them with him. In that way, I have been with you and it cannot be erased." 

"I have felt the same since he has come home." She was quiet for a moment. "Let us be happy and bring joy to this man we love. If he will allow it."

"Now that we speak of reality, and not wishes, know that he believes he has put me aside."

"I would not be myself were I to attempt to guide this matter beyond telling you how I feel. He will have to decide for himself. Once again, though directly this time, I simply ask you to be who you are around him. He will not be able to help himself."

"You have overmuch confidence in me," Legolas quipped.

She laughed and looked up at him at last, the pretty flush fading. "I suppose you are unaware of the stir you have caused throughout the household, so I must tell you. Please have a care when you walk past the stewards, I am replacing glassware at absurd rates. And stop smiling at my little students so much, you are spoiling them for other boys."

Legolas grinned. "You are good for my spirit."

"And you for mine." She left his embrace, and he felt oddly bereft. Arwen reached into her pocket. "I have one other favor to ask."

"I have heard no favors thus far." Legolas leaned a hip on the windowsill.

"I brought this in case I could not be bold enough to speak with you of other things." She pressed a small book in his hands. "At the next banquet, I would like you to read something aloud for me. It is my first reading before an audience, so I ask you to choose well. I would have your heartbreaking voice speak my words." 

With that, she kissed him lightly on the lips and left. Legolas looked in wonder at the volume of poetry with her seal on the cover.  
*******

With the renewal of Frodo's touch and barriers to his desire for Aragorn removed, Legolas found he was so lustful that he could concentrate on nothing. Frodo continued to sleep with him in the last hours of the morning, which though lovely, strained the limits of Legolas' bearing.

He was determined to get himself back under control before the banquet, for his renewed glow began to draw others at an alarming rate, and his store of polite and appropriate demurrers ran low.

That afternoon, Legolas purposefully encountered Aragorn touring the stables with a diplomatic contingent. Legolas passed him close instead of far, catching the King's scent and making certain Aragorn could not ignore his. He did not look in the somber eyes, but half turned his face back toward the man as he went by, so Aragorn would know he had been noticed. He felt, rather than saw, the King startle at his own strength of reaction. 

Just that exchange left Legolas throbbing. He took to the high gardens for solitude, reading from Arwen's book, but the hard marble benches were no distraction, and Arwen's words made matters worse. After a time, he slipped into the trees, and leaning against the trunk of a sapling, reached into his leggings and completed what had begun without his leave.

He ate the rest of the day's meals in the kitchens, alone with Gimli, when the hall tables had grown quiet. Crunching an apple, he seized upon an idea. He wrote a letter to Frodo and posted his message to Bag End, renewing his promise to come with great happiness.

"But Frodo is here." Gimli said in astonishment.

"And will not be at Bag End for some months, I wager. I want to make certain he finds this when he first comes home. The roads are not yet good, and it will take time to reach its destination."

"You are reeking of lust and will make the hobbit's hands tremble to open your letter," said Gimli with a chuckle. "He may combust upon reading it."

"It is a chaste message, Gimli, I do not set to torture him. What do you mean, reeking?" Legolas was suddenly indignant.

Gimli chuckled, "It is only that your usually refreshing scent is magnified in your heat and is a little overbearing indoors." He sobered again and touched the letter. "Once you send this, he will anticipate your coming. Do not disappoint him, my friend."

"I will not. Never that. Do not underestimate his strength. I will go because I do not wish to be disappointed myself."

"It is well." And Gimli said nothing further on it.  
*******

Later that evening, Legolas was in the baths when Elladan and Elrohir sought him out. The dark twins moved quietly and yet with a seething power that spoke of strength and danger. Legolas thought how different Elrond's sons seemed from his daughter, and he wondered if the difference was only on the surface.

"We have missed you these months since we went forth with the Riders." Elladan spoke while he and his brother stripped for the bath. They made a great show of their glorious bodies, and Legolas quirked his mouth in amusement.

"Yes, but I am feeling more social once again, you are returned, and I am glad to see you both," he replied, "How fare you as nobility among elves and men?" 

"It is a crashing bore most days," sighed Elrohir, slipping into the hot water, "I miss the chase and the hunt and the blood of orcs--those things, and being permitted to work up a good sweat beyond our father's line of sight."

"What sort of a good sweat?" queried Legolas in a humored voice.

"Ah, you are back to your old self!" exclaimed Elladan happily.

"Yes, and it is wreaking havoc all about us," added Elrohir. He lowered his voice to a purr, although he kept a proper distance. "Perhaps, Legolas, we could assist you in reducing the strength of your call."

"Whether you are in earnest or not," grinned Legolas, "I am saving myself at the moment."

"Pity," Elladan said, "it has been far too long since we exchanged... pleasantries with you."

"Far too long," his brother echoed, still in that low voice of persuasion, "and since then, we have both added many pleasantries--as you say, Brother--to our store of manners." Unlike Elladan, however, he could not contain himself to euphemisms. "I have long fancied something denied me to this date, Legolas, the feel of you clasped between my naked thighs. And we will be here precious little time." 

Legolas looked back and forth, from one fine fellow to the other, his memory quite fresh despite fifty or so years passing. He decided at last, smiled, and reached for a towel.

"Another time, wicked ones, another time. I will see you over the ocean." He covered himself in self-defense as he exited the bath.

"But whatever shall we do tonight, instead?" Elrohir pouted in mock upset. 

Legolas thought for a few moments while donning his shirt and then his leggings. "I know a certain dwarf of kind heart, soft hair, and hale body, who has lacked company since I met him," he regarded the two seriously as they blinked in surprise, "I know from his telling that the dwarves are less focused on such pleasure than we elves are, yet I do not believe he is without wanting. And he is so lonely in spirit, though he would never complain of it. But I do not imagine you are up to the challenge. He does not believe men should lie together."

"We are not men!" Elrohir exclaimed in mock indignation.

"I do not think he makes that distinction," Legolas said softly.

Elladan raised an eyebrow. "Yet he is nearly inseparable from you. Does he know?"

"Of course. He believes he makes an exception for me," Legolas' eyes reflected much tenderness as he gathered his things. "He gives me too much credit." 

"Why do you not go to him, then?" Elladan asked in earnest. "He could ask no finer introduction to our arts."

Legolas bowed his head to accept the compliment. "He is my great friend. Though I see his beauty when others do not, something in the ether between us is not right for love play. He is curious about me, and he loves me, but I do not bring him to heat."

"Even were we inclined to share such intimacy with a dwarf, think you that he is ready for the likes of us?" Elrohir asked with a grin, "or for that much knowledge of the elves?"

"I do not know, but if anyone could ever find out, it would be the two of you. Think of him as brave Gimli whom I love well, and not as a dwarf. Be good to him or you will answer to me, and do not press past his wanting when you are certain what that is. I am certain you recall our lesson of some years ago." With that, Legolas swept out of the room.  
*******

Legolas found a page waiting at his chamber door to bid him visit the Queen and King in their rooms. He changed the damp shirt for a fine woolen robe, took the time to comb and rebraid his hair, collected the book, and strode to the royal chambers. There were no attendants about, all was quiet. He heard voices in the sitting room, and knocked there.

"Enter." It was Arwen's light voice that answered. He pushed open the heavy, carved doors. Aragorn was seated reading a scroll, and started up in surprise as soon as he saw who had come. 

Their eyes locked, something they had avoided, and Legolas felt the long-banked surge of passion cross the space between them. He knew that the color of his eyes betrayed him already. Aragorn was transfixed with panic that the moment Arwen looked in those eyes, she would see the true extent of that from which he had tried to protect her. 

But Arwen came forward and clasped the other elf's hands in warm greeting, her voice happy and musical. "Legolas, thank you for coming." He turned his attention to her and smiled, feeling Aragorn almost flinch as the man watched the brilliant blue eyes meet those of his wife. "What did you think of the verses?" 

Legolas drew the book out of his robe and caressed the small volume with his thumb. "My Queen--Arwen, I was moved beyond measure." 

She laid a hand on his arm and he escorted her to the fireplace. "Do not flatter me, Prince of Songs." 

"I would not," he replied, dryly.

Aragorn had recovered himself enough to realize he must join the conversation. "It is good to see you," he embraced Legolas as would be expected, neither lingering nor fleeing. "We do not spend enough time together."

"You have understandably heavy duties, my King, in these early days of the freed Middle Earth."

"Do not ever call me that, Legolas, I do not place you beneath me." 

Legolas swallowed heavily to suppress the jest he would have spoken were they alone.

"Sit with us, and talk for awhile," Aragorn said, and went for a pitcher of wine and cups from the table. Legolas relaxed into a large chair. 

"What book do you share?" Aragorn asked, his back still turned, sharpness in his voice.

"Arwen's love poetry."

Aragorn whirled in surprise. He regarded them both with bewilderment. "Arwen's?"

"Yes, Aragorn, I would even venture to call it a high order of Sindarin love poetry, some of it quite erotic."

"You write?" He was astonished. Arwen smiled mischievously at him, only adding to his consternation. "Why did you not tell me?"

"You did not ask." 

Aragorn struggled with this for a moment. "Did Legolas ask?" 

Her reply was melodious. "I chose him to give a reading in my stead at the banquet. It was to be a surprise. But I thought I should hear it first in case I might find my words unworthy of his voice." 

Aragorn passed the wine cups around, and fell back on the settee. "Erotic poetry. My wife, the Queen of Elves and Men, writes erotic poetry." He grinned, took a slug of wine, and leaned forward. "Read me one."

"Who shall read?" Legolas asked, soberly. "I think the honor is the lady's."

"I would prefer to hear your voice and interpretation, Legolas," replied Arwen, settling on the cushions at his feet. "Else, how will I know if my meaning is in the words or only in my mind?" She gazed up at him in rapt attention.

"Requests?"

"Choose one to your liking." 

"They are all to my liking in varying degrees." He opened the volume and paged through it. "But this one caught me unawares, and it is not right for the banquet." Legolas composed himself, and began to read, under the watchful eye of Aragorn.

_Swords cross, as do stars,_  
Souls torn between duty and love.  
She holds me in blissful dreams,  
He holds me in wanton arms,  
Her eyes haunt me,  
His hands drive me,  
I fall from the sky.  
The war rages beyond us.  
The arc of his bow guides me home. 

After a respectful pause, Legolas looked down to Arwen. 

Her eyes shone. "What a generous reading."

"Generous? Not at all." He raised his eyes over her head at last to Aragorn. He could see the man was trembling, his jaw set, his eyes soft and wet. The goblet dangled from long fingers as if it would drop to the floor. "I give it the only reading I may." Legolas returned his attention to the book, seeking another selection.

"I cannot bear more." Aragorn interrupted hoarsely and set his cup down too hard. "I simply cannot bear the words in your mouth." 

Legolas shut the book abruptly. "I do not see why I deserve your ire." 

Aragorn rose. "You mistake me, dearest friend, I speak not in anger. I am simply unwilling to go on with this torture. Arwen's words are glorious, idealized." He went to his wife and helped her to her feet, giving her a brush of a kiss. "In your voice, they are too real." Aragorn left the room, the heavy doors thudding shut behind him. 

Arwen sighed. "Does he wish to be unhappy?"

"He does not wish it, he simply cannot see the other path far enough to trust it. He worries that damage will be done that cannot be undone."

"He is wrong."

"Perhaps. Humans do not have our sight, but our sight is not without error." He looked at Arwen, composed and dignified in silk and velvet. She was all beauty, softness, and curves, and he thought again of the power and mischief of her brothers. He had lusted for the twins--and still could, judging by the encounter in the baths--but not for her. It was an interesting and convenient mystery.

Elrond had sheltered and schooled his daughter in a different way than his sons, inadvertently conforming her behavior to that of a human noblewoman. She had gentleness, intellect, fine comportment, and the iron will required to wait and do without many things. Yet, Legolas sensed something wild in her, and he thought how he could enjoy helping the wild thing get free, even though he did not want it for himself.

She held his eyes, innocent of his thoughts. "Then, do you agree with him?"

"If I agreed with him, I would not be here. We must be patient with him." He went to the door and looked back at her with a grin. "I hope that we have not spoiled your bed for tonight." He saw that she blushed furiously. "Aragorn should never leave you wanting."

"He does not." She defended her husband's attentions.

Legolas smiled more softly. "I know that he cannot leave you untouched, for who could in his place? I know he is a thoughtful and skilled lover. But I fear he is too careful with you. I must find a way to... tell him." He slipped out the door, leaving her to think on his words, and returned to his chambers.

On his pillow, he found a note and an ornate blown glass bottle of cobalt blue. The note was in Elladan's graceful hand. "This is from our special collection. Please accept it as a small token of our esteem for your enjoyment." 

Legolas grinned at the intended grammatical joke, and unstoppered the bottle. A sweet fragrance of spices and nut oils gave him lovely inspiration. He lost little time undressing, and spread a large linen towel across his sheets. Soon, he lay on his back, smoothing the oil over his chest, belly, and thighs, finally massaging it along his thick shaft. The mixture of spices warmed his skin marvelously.

After a time at this play, he reached out with the strength of his passion to find Aragorn. That he found him at all suggested that Aragorn had indeed returned to Arwen, and that they were well along in pleasure. This odd sense was a new thing for Legolas, a curiosity--not sight, or smell, or hearing, but some phantom borne on the ether of their strong connection. He had all but been invited by Arwen, so he did not shy away from eavesdropping. 

He could somehow feel the gentle rocking, the care with which Aragorn touched his wife despite the force of his desire for her. "Harder," Legolas whispered with no idea of being heard, "she will not break, Aragorn." He thrust forcefully into the curve of his own hand, and in surprise, felt Aragorn relay the movement. Arwen's strong response returned to him in the shock of pleasure that went through Aragorn. 

The strange connection strengthened, so that he could almost hear them, and the pace quickened. He decided to experiment. "Roll with her," Legolas urged with his mind, "bring her astride." Tiny lights flashed before his eyes as Aragorn did so and Arwen took over at last. 

Anyone passing Legolas' chamber a few minutes later would have been shocked. He did not sing, he did not moan, he cried out loudly in most unelven fashion, as if with a man's voice. 

Afterward, he lay panting, glistening with oil and fluids. It occurred to him then, for the first time, that Aragorn might not be well with his intrusion. The encounter had taken him before he thought on the risk of discovery or the harm. He covered his face with one hand and groaned.

Sleep did not call to him, so he rose, dried himself, and dressed. The hour was late but not yet midnight, and he hoped to find Gimli awake and reading. A game of cards would distract him from worry. He could see flickering light under Gimli's door and his knuckles had nearly connected with the wood when he froze. The familiar voices of the twins reached him, one teasing and urging, the other quite beside himself with pleasure. 

"Gimli," the muffled voice was Elladan's, "may I suggest you do that same thing to this part, here, it will absolutely slay him." The answering extended groan from Elrohir was followed by a lusty chuckle from Legolas' best friend. 

The elf actually flushed in surprise. He tiptoed away, pleased with himself, and--despite his curiosity--determined to leave Gimli to privacy.  
*******

Banquet preparations required Legolas to be in the main hall at the same time as Aragorn, along with legions of the household. Legolas had been placed in charge of the displays at arms to be performed. He glanced Aragorn's way several times, trying to gauge the mood of the morning. At last, he caught the King's eye, and was gratified to receive a smile.

Legolas demonstrated the correct blocking of one of the mock fights, so that the performers would come close enough to the seats of the foreign guests to impress them without injury. As he turned and swooped, his blades met Anduril with a sharp clang. The two warriors wrestled for a few minutes, each knowing already that one could not overtake the other. 

The watchers backed away. Gray eyes pierced Legolas with their directness and he faltered a little, giving Aragorn the advantage. He found himself disarmed, with the flat of Aragorn's blade against his throat.

"You presume much, Legolas," Aragorn whispered fiercely near his ear.

"I am sorry, Elessar, I should not have," Legolas braced himself for hard words.

The King smiled wryly though Legolas could not see it. "Do not stop calling me 'Aragorn;' all here know who you are and find no disrespect." He released the pressure and sheathed Anduril, stepping back, but kept his voice low. "I would be a great fool not to appreciate the lesson of last night, but I would have preferred knowing earlier that you were present." 

Legolas drew him to the side of the hall, away from the others. "I do not know yet how this occurs between us, Aragorn, I was carried away by it. I did not think of it as other than mutual. Please forgive me."

"It was entirely mutual, Legolas. I simply did not know it was real."

Brown eyes searched grey for any sign that the admission went deeper, and Legolas burned with the possibility but kept his tone light. "How did you finally see?"

Aragorn shook his head in recall and chuckled. "My wife shrieked when I sang out in elven fashion, which I have never done, and in a voice very nearly yours. After she recovered, she made me understand that my visions of you were not always conjured of my imagination."

"Is Arwen well?" Legolas' concern was palpable. 

"She was stunned, then amazed, then embarrassed. My--our altered approach was... very pleasing to her, as I am certain you felt through me. By this morning, she is quite well and laughing at her own expense for being taken off guard."

"We have not spoken this frankly in some time." Legolas said softly.

"Legolas, I am wed. I only allow myself to touch you in my mind. Only then, because Arwen encourages it." His voice became wistful. "It is not for lack of wanting that I stay away."

"What if she would allow more?"

"Arwen would do anything for me. That does not make it right for me, as king or husband, to press my advantage." For a moment, Aragorn allowed himself to float in the elf's dark eyes, careful to remain casual to any observer. "I must get back to the preparations. If there is a next time that we connect in that way, I will warn Arwen and let her choose." His expression became droll. "Thank you for showing me that I underestimate her."

"Arwen is stronger than spider silk, Aragorn, and worthy of challenge." 

Aragorn smiled back at him. "So are you." He took one step closer. "As I sang for you, Legolas, I need not ask if you enjoyed yourself." With that, he strode away.

Legolas finished with the performers and went to the kitchens. Bedlam was underway there, but Gimli waited patiently at their customary table, two heaping plates before him. 

Legolas nearly choked at the sight of a neat love braid woven into either side of the black and red streaked hair. He struggled to keep his face inscrutable as he approached. "Gimli, we cannot eat here, it is unbearable. Let us go to my chambers."

Once settled there, Legolas prepared to prattle about something unintrusive as they tucked into the hearty fare.

"Legolas," Gimli said gruffly, "let us not pretend. I know your handiwork."

The elf used his best neutral tone. "To what do you refer, Gimli? It has been an eventful night and day thus far to say the least."

"Elladan and Elrohir. And the amazing ways of the elves."

Legolas then allowed the grin to show and spread. "Does your impeccable dwarven sense of propriety allow you to speak of it?" 

Gimli chuckled. "If I do not, my sides will split from keeping it in."

"How did they approach you?"

"Most politely, with a game of cards. At which I began to lose horribly. Elrohir then asked, very gravely, 'If you are indeed an honorable dwarf, why do you not follow the rules of the game?' Of course, I was furious, and demanded to know what he meant. Elladan jumped in and said to his brother that you must have spared me the true rules in deference to my dwarven modesty. He then explained that each loss leads to removal of clothing."

Legolas laughed. "Those two are incorrigible."

A twinkle came into Gimli's eyes. "You have had them, together?"

Legolas paused, remembering that Gimli did not share his open sensibility about these matters. 

"I would not enquire if it concerned me," Gimli said dryly.

"In a manner of speaking, a long time ago. It was largely a hands-off encounter, difficult to explain."

"I thought as much. I admit, having heard your song many times, even through the muffling of it, that I have envied such pleasure." Gimli's eyes shone with a light Legolas had not noticed before. "Still, I would not have sought it for myself." 

"I know, Gimli, but I love you too much to let you go on alone. I only hoped you would not be angry at them or me."

"Knowing my manner, it is no wonder that you had such fear." He cleared his throat. "You drew me to overcome my hatred of the elves, and then to love you, and then to realize that no one's kind is all the same." Gimli set his plate aside and took one of Legolas' hands. "My heart wishes that I could have been drawn to you in other ways, so that you, whom I love best, could have shown me what I now know about myself. But it is not so."

"It is well, my dearest friend, that we may have what we do with loyalty absolutely uncomplicated. I have that with no one else." Legolas reached out and stroked the length of one of Gimli's braids, his smile warm. "And I did help to show you, in a way. I see that you made an impression indeed--the twins do not leave these lightly." He chuckled. "It was most difficult to still my reaction when I first saw you in the kitchens."

"I could not very well reject a call for conformance to the rules, and soon had not a stitch for cover, while Elladan had lost but one shoe and Elrohir's garb was intact. At this point I was fuming."

"Gimli, it is a pity that I must tell you, but there are no such rules."

"Truth be told, Legolas, I had caught on to that while I yet had my underclothes."

The two of them laughed then, together, loud and long.  
*******

"That time is past." Aragorn spoke with hardness in his voice.

"Is it?" Arwen's voice trembled as she put a hand on his arm and searched his eyes, the eyes of a cat. "I think you deceive yourself, my love. End the torture, but end it in the right way." 

Though she blushed, she took her husband's hardened hand in hers, and offered it across the table, up to Legolas' lips. Her deep-sea eyes looked on unflinchingly as Legolas kissed the offering reverently, without otherwise moving. Aragorn suppressed a groan. Only a catch of his breath was audible.

"Would you spend the short remains of your life and mine holding yourself from happiness?" Arwen was more forceful than Legolas had ever seen her, a growing storm in the forest. "This is a human penchant for unnecessary misery I cannot abide."

"Our vows," was all Aragorn could say, still holding her gaze.

"Our vows are made and kept, our bond fully formed. Aragorn, we never spoke to deny part of either soul. I knew who you were when I chose you. Keeping secrets of your heart from me, and from yourself, is not being faithful, no matter how beyond reproach your actions."

Legolas mentally withdrew from the conversation, which did not involve him. He well knew that Arwen had not intended for this to transpire, and could not blame her. Now that Aragorn and Legolas had at last spoken frankly, she had thought a simple and quiet dinner among the three would further restore their friendship. They had talked and laughed indeed, and Aragorn was able to put down the mantle of responsibility for an hour or so.

With a little wine and much jesting, however, Aragorn had finally been driven to quip that hardly a person in the castle remained unmarked by Legolas. Arwen's horrified intake of breath at his particular choice of words had jolted her husband to realize that his meaning might be mistaken.

His eyes flew to those of his friend. "I mean only that you do not pass unnoticed anywhere, Legolas. I meant nothing of your conduct."

The brown eyes glittered with an amused hint of menace. "Let my meaning in return be clear then, Aragorn. None but Frodo has been permitted near me since I last shared myself with you." 

The silence then was palpable, until Aragorn spoke the painful words putting their love firmly aside, _That time is now past._

As Legolas examined his thoughts and inner turmoil, he could hear the voices around him rising and falling in debate. He realized that the King and Queen had both left the table. He too rose, to quietly slip out so that they might resolve their differences in private. 

Legolas was fully shocked back to the conversation as Arwen pulled the robe from his shoulders, letting it fall and leaving him in only his thin leggings. She grasped his forearms, gently restraining him from covering himself, and he felt strength in her hands he had not anticipated. Legolas wondered if the wild thing in her might be manifesting itself faster than he would have expected. If only she had been more patient. He could see the impulse for fight or flight struggling in Aragorn's eyes, and silently pleaded for fight, anything but abandonment or further shame. 

Arwen ran her hands up the archer's arms to his tightly muscled shoulders. "Look upon him, Beloved," she begged, her hands moving into the silver hair, spreading it over broad shoulders and stirring his scent, "he has shed his precious blood for you, yet you harm him every day with this coldness."

Legolas could feel her fear that Aragorn would run, her fear that she had gone too far too fast with something a human could not manage easily, no matter what the measure of want. To steady himself, he counted the heartbeats he could hear. His own measured beat, Arwen's slightly faster, Aragorn's racing. 

Arwen held Legolas fast, her cheek against his back now. He reached out to her emotions with reassurance and calm, willing her not to say anything else, but to wait. He counted twenty-seven more heartbeats.

Of a sudden, Aragorn's mouth was on his, arms circling both his body and Arwen in a crushing grip. As Legolas gave back in full measure, Aragorn whimpered. The true man was at last unchained.

Legolas responded then with all his power, forcing Aragorn to release his grip and pushing him back upon the broad settee, one thigh between the man's strong legs. The elf pressed Aragorn down with his hips and lavished him with kisses. Aragorn was done with being silent, and gave voice to each touch. 

Arwen stood transfixed with the sight of them. Legolas reached back then and took her by the waist, pulling her down as well. The startled Queen lay on her back next to Aragorn, her robes and hair tangled about her, and was astonished at the Legolas she saw above her, taking her husband beyond himself so fast. 

The cool, meditative, and gentle creature she had known was transformed to a raw, natural power. She had seen him fight and should have anticipated this part of his being that others sensed by instinct. The sexual force of him flowed into her and over her like a river undammed, and she knew at once that Aragorn had two mates, equally matched. She touched Legolas' face in wonder even though her heart ached. "You are my light twin," she whispered. 

Legolas left off ravaging Aragorn then, keeping him pressed down with one hand, and leaned down to kiss her, a soft, loving kiss that brought tears, not desire. Yet he saw want in her eyes, inflamed by what flowed between him and Aragorn. 

"Help me," his asked, his voice full of heat. "If you would grant it, I wish to ruin him completely so that he can never again deny me." Aragorn groaned at the words. Arwen nodded her assent, and Legolas spoke to Aragorn, humor for a brief moment overtaking arousal. "Human, you will make certain that your wild elven wife is satisfied many times over this night, and I will see that you do it properly." He delighted in the sound of Arwen's laughter in response as she turned to her husband, joining her hands to Legolas' sweet task.  
*******

Months later, upon returning to Bag End, Frodo found Legolas' letter waiting for him, realizing only upon the fifth reading the significance of the date it was written. He understood that Legolas had meant to reassure him, even with unassuming contents. Frodo's heart quickened with a rush of heat, and he began to anticipate despite his better judgment. 

He had not long to wait. Within mere days of reading the letter, he was overjoyed to find the elf at his door. At last, he felt assured that his love was returned. 

Bag End rang with more laughter and stories and feasting even than usual, with Sam, Merry, and Pippin coming and going. They built a small bower for Legolas above the house, as he could not long bear the confinement of a hobbit hole, even one as grand as Bag End. 

The little hill resounded with different noises when Legolas and Frodo were alone, as Frodo had at last recovered. After several days of becoming reacquainted, they lay snug in Legolas' bower, watching the stars peek through the weft of the roof.

Legolas toyed with the hobbit's curls. "Did you remember my request?"

"Indeed. We have had several adventures... the three of us, since last I saw you."

Chuckling, Legolas nibbled Frodo's ear. "Tell me one."

"I have never spoken such things aloud before," he said shyly.

Legolas clasped him close. "Pretend you are writing it. I will be silent. You are a natural spinner of tales." He traced Frodo's bottom lip with one finger and spoke the irresistible words, "It would make me very happy to know your thoughts."

Frodo closed his eyes, composed himself for a few minutes, and began to recount what he had seen in his mind's eye.  
**

I was resting in your bed at Minas Tirith--your tangled bed of linen, silk, and wool, that smells so wonderfully of you. It was a chilly morning of rain, and when I awoke, you were gone. I missed you even before my eyes opened.

Then I found your note, saying that you would return with breakfast, and would take my excuses to the others. I suddenly realized that I still had the taste of you in my mouth, and I found that my ability to... become aroused had returned. After so long without it, fearing it was gone forever, I was overjoyed.

I bounced out of the bed and went to wash my face, recalling what you said about it being delightful just to feel such response in yourself. So I resolved not to do anything about it, at least not until you returned.

The idea of walking about naked had been charming, but the doing of it in the chill was less so, and I stirred the fire a little and crawled back under the blankets. I think I dozed.

There was a sharp knock at the door, and before I had time to respond, someone swept in and set the lock. I froze in panic. The sound of boots hitting the hard floor as they were removed further prevented me from thinking what to do.

All at once, a large weight was atop me, and I must have shrieked, for a great scrambling ensued, after which, I found myself looking at an astonished Aragorn.

"Frodo!" he exclaimed, "I am so sorry! I had no idea you were here." 

Fearing to say too much, I thought I should try to explain. "I am often here in the mornings these days, my King. Legolas is trying to help me recover my strength." Aragorn shut his eyes in dismay: I was not sure if it was upset for my presence, shame at the reminder of his rank, or the placing of distance between us with title. I was mortified.

Then, he spoke again. "In privacy, you never need call me that. It feels so wrong. I would rather be Aragorn, your great friend, or even Strider, the one you did not yet trust. Else, I must always call you 'Ring-bearer' which catches in my mouth." His humor had returned, and I smiled. His breath caught a little. "My, but you do have a beauteous smile, Frodo." We both realized then that he still half-lay across me, and he sat up.

"Legolas has gone to bring breakfast. He is spoiling me."

Aragorn grinned. "You deserve to be spoiled. If I allowed her, Arwen would hand feed you chocolates until you burst."

That idea made me shiver. "Hmmm, I cannot say that prospect entirely displeases me," I said in delight. "To have the most beautiful woman I have ever seen feed me my favorite food..."

"Do not let Gimli hear you say that, or his axe will be placed to the challenge again for _his lady_." Aragorn's grin faded a little. "In truth, Frodo, knowing myself, I should be jealous to find you here, though I have no such right. But I find I cannot be. I have never wondered why Legolas is drawn to you."

"You have little to worry about these days, I have been so... unwell." 

He frowned in concern and touched my face. "How so? I thought you were much better."

"I am, but I cannot seem to feel rested, no matter the amount of sleep. And certain, um, abilities have not returned. Well, until this morning, that is." I knew my face was burning, and when I looked up, Aragorn had an eyebrow quirked at me.

"So how could our elf calmly leave to get food, and be gone so long?"

I thrilled at the reference to 'our elf.' "He doesn't know yet."

A low chuckle sounded in the King's chest. "How do you know the restoration was more than... passing? It would be a shame to enflame him with the idea and then disappoint him."

I was set back by the prospect and almost grabbed for myself through the blankets right then. A rattling at the door, however, indicated that you were at last returning.

"Frodo, what game is this?" you called, "I am alone. Open for me so that we may break the fast together." Aragorn put a finger to his lips and pushed off the bed. Striding to the door silently, he slipped the lock and flung the door wide.

The look on your face was worth so much. It takes a great deal to surprise one who has lived your length of life.

"Come in," Aragorn said, sweeping his hand toward the bed, "and hurry about it that we might bolt the door again."

As soon as the door swung shut behind you, Aragorn took the tray from your hands, set it aside, and took you in his arms. I had never seen you kiss openly before me, and as I saw both of you in your strength match and yield at the same time, there remained no doubt that I was... restored.

You pushed away from him a little, frowning. "Have a care, some have more tender feelings than you or I in these matters," you said softly.

"Ordinarily, I would be more mindful of the hobbit's heart, but I intended to answer a question that lingered for him. What say you, Frodo?"

My mouth was dry, and I could only sit speechless, wrapped in your blanket, making certain to stay covered. Aragorn brought the tray over and placed it on the nightstand, pausing to pop a ripe berry in his mouth.

"Aragorn, what has come over you?" you asked, bemused.

"Well, it has been a morning of odd missteps for me, but I find them to have been beneficial in the end."

"Missteps?" you asked. I watched the two of you banter, glad not to be the focus of any attention.

"First, I walked by mistake into Gimli's room, as I have not been to your chamber here before and went right instead of left. Fortunately, I knocked first, and so we had a chat and he thought nothing of it. This delayed me until you had already left to find food. Second, I came to the correct room, and pounced upon poor Frodo here, shocking us both. We had a frank discussion, which has led me to a revelation. Third, I locked you out rather than in, which brought us the rare opportunity to see you astonished."

You sat next to me on the bed and put an arm around me. "Aragorn," you said dryly, I have never seen you... giddy before. Pray tell of this revelation of yours."

Aragorn came and knelt before us. "I have spent time in jealous fretting that need not have been, and in so doing, have perhaps missed an opportunity. My wife loves you both, as do I. Legolas, you are uncommon in your lack of jealousy. And apparently, when it comes to you, even Frodo is of open mind." We both blinked back at him. 

He looked at me earnestly with his grey-green eyes. "I do not know what will come of it for any of us, but, Frodo, may I kiss you?" I felt you give me a little caress on the small of my back, and I must have nodded.

Moving very slowly, watching me for any hesitation, Aragorn cupped my face and brought our mouths together. I was not sure what to expect, as I have only kissed you in this way. It was sweet and soft at first, tentative, his lips only slightly parted. You slid behind me with your knees folded on either side, so that I felt gloriously as though I was wearing you around me, my head nestled back against your chest.

Your hand encircled the back of his head, then, and you pressed him harder to me. He moaned a little and opened to me, and my tongue slipped in against his. It felt wonderfully strange. His familiar Strider-smell, though different than it was in the work of the road, was warm and reassuring. At last, I put my hands up and touched his soft hair, not silky like yours, but pleasing. I could feel you fully hard against my back, and I flushed all over in response.

Aragorn broke from me and kissed you then, up over my head. I could not see, but I could hear the tantalizing sounds of your growing passion. Aragorn's shirt was open low, right before me, and I thought to touch him inside it. Suddenly, the blanket was moving, being pulled from me, and I could not tell who was doing the pulling. I made a little noise of protest, and your hands went to my shoulders in reassurance, but the blanket kept sliding.

"Frodo, if you truly want me to stop, I will." Aragorn was breathless. I shut my eyes for a moment and determined that I would not be a timid hobbit. My hands went into his shirt, and I found his nipples hard under my palms. Your clothing began to come off; I saw your shirt sail past Aragorn's shoulder and felt your naked chest press into me.

When the blanket had fully gone, Aragorn's hand slid up my thigh as your hand went down my belly to meet his. I felt your leggings going then, with you shifting deliciously around me to accomplish it. I bit my lips to stay quiet.

"Relax back on me, Frodo," you said softly into my ear, and I did, closing my eyes. The only thing that could be better than both of you touching me together happened then, as his mouth was on me. I think my cry was of surprise first, then, you hushed me with your mouth. You were slick, not only hard, but sliding against my skin. "Tell me, Frodo, do you like this?" you asked wickedly.

I groaned then, I could not help it. Aragorn's mouth felt so hot, and his tongue swirled around me as he pulled me in deep, his hands on my hips. I fought the impulse to let go hard, right then. Once I resolved to last as long as possible, something shifted and my whole body seemed to absorb the pleasure instead of just that one place.

I opened my eyes. Your hands were in his hair, tousling and caressing, something he apparently liked very much. One of his hands left my hip and disappeared over the edge of the bed. A moment later, a little muffled noise from him told me where it had gone.

At this, I was seized by a sudden urge I had never had, and wondered how to accomplish it. I took a few deep breaths, placed my hands on your thighs and pressed myself up. This brought me harder into Aragorn's mouth, which he seemed to enjoy, and little stars seemed to burst in my eyes--but that was not my real purpose.

Before you knew what was happening, I slid you into me, all at once, not knowing what to expect. I had heard others speak of pain, but I was so aroused and you were so wet, that beyond the pressure and a twinge, it was easy. You, however, were taken completely off guard, cried out, and clutched at me in surprise.

"Frodo, are you well?" you were able to gasp, circling my waist with an arm to support me but keeping your body very still.

"Very well," I sighed. I remained suspended, feeling full of you and not wanting to ruin anything with the wrong movement. But I was beginning to have a nagging desire for you to shift within me.

Aragorn raised his head to see what transpired, and a delighted smile spread across his features. "You are an unexpected adventurer," he said to me, and rose to arrange pillows behind you. I had not thought of the fact that you were leaning back all that time to take my weight. Aragorn stood before me and put one knee on the bed, reaching over us both. I do not know in his eagerness to help us if he realized what bobbed before me, his leggings open, but he soon did when I took as much of it in my mouth as I could.

He tried to be quiet, as the voice of the King certainly could not be heard in this way, let alone in this place. I thought how often he must have had to be silent in passion, and it seemed sad. Even his strangled sounds were encouraging though. Even better, I could feel you throbbing with him. Aragorn's hands fell to your shoulders for support, and I caressed his flat stomach.

I concentrated for a few minutes only on making him feel good, my lips and fingers smoothing and stroking. He was unconsciously thrusting against me, still with restraint. 

"Frodo," his whisper was hoarse, "please, now." I tightened my grip and swirled my tongue in the sweeping motions you adore, and suddenly, he was coming, and in that first moment, I feared the strength of his response. Then, you were helping me, steadying his hips so he would not press on me too hard, making sure I could breathe, and swallow. He tasted sweeter than you; you are of the woods and sea together, fresh and strong. Despite my surprise, I resolved not to interrupt his pleasure.

At last, he stood panting, one knee still on the bed, leaning hard on you, and I wondered how you were able to take both our weight without shaking. I felt his hand on the side of my face, stroking, as he gently withdrew. He knelt on the floor again, and kissed me, a lusty exchange in which I knew he could taste himself. He continued, moving down my chest and further, until I was back in his mouth.

"Legolas," I said, shifting my hips until you groaned, "it is time for you to move." When you did, in a rocking motion, not too hard, not too soft, I knew I would not last long. You touched a place I only recently learned I had, and each moment was about helping you touch there again. Suspended between the softness of Aragorn's mouth, and the hardness of you, I was reduced to pure sensation.

Although conscious thought was leaving me, I remembered that you and I are no secret, and I need not be quiet here in your chambers. I could give voice for all of us, and as Aragorn slipped a hand between us to grasp the base of your hardness, I did. I knew you were holding back, you always wait for me, and I pressed back on you as I came, not allowing your restraint this time,

When you sang then, your voice vibrated within me, and the pleasure expanded to obliterate everything else.

When later, I could feel and hear and see again, I was tucked back against your chest as you slept. I opened my eyes to see Aragorn lying on his side close before me, his legs tangled with yours, watching us sleep. His eyes were very green in that moment, less gray, and he smiled tenderly. I realized that our hands were entwined, yours and mine and his, and I pressed my lips to his fingers. 

"Unfortunately, I cannot stay to sleep in this blissful way with you two," he whispered. He kissed my cheek, then yours, and disengaged from us. When he had dressed and slipped out with a last smile, I slept.  
**

Frodo's mind returned at last to the bower and found Legolas curled around him, chest to back. Frodo waited a few moments, his heart racing, then spoke. "Well, did you like it?"

"Can you not feel?" Legolas said lazily, shifting his hips. Frodo realized that his own back and thighs were wet, very wet, sticky in fact. He gasped, and Legolas continued with a chuckle. "I only promised to be silent, Frodo, not still. Your story came to life so well, I decided to honor it with my real response. I hope that was what you wished. At one point, I had to restrain myself from entering you, something I have never even thought to do with you before. I did not know that you fancied to try it."

"I am not sure that I do."

"And what of giving that pleasure to another?"

"I have imagined it--in another adventure. In any case, I knew that you did not want it and neither did Aragorn. Remember, I overheard you talking in Lórien. I would never ask, knowing that. In my imagination, although Aragorn has been hurt in this way, and although you do not prefer to be touched thus yourself, these things are overcome by enough desire." Frodo clasped one of Legolas' hands in his. "I can imagine enough desire, even if it cannot be created in this world."

Legolas was quiet for a moment. "You are wise, Frodo." His free hand slid up Frodo's flank and found him hard. "And your imagination is both vivid and accurate." He began to lightly run his fingers over Frodo, making him shiver. 

"I will do anything and everything to please you," said Frodo in a voice full of wanting.

"Then, be happy and well, for that is what I most desire."  
*******

Legolas found himself besotted with the hobbit's hedonism and mischief. Frodo proved to him that, all elven experience aside, there was always something new to learn. Despite recurrent illnesses, Frodo was lighthearted in their times together. Legolas bettered his promise and came to him every three months. Finally, he came to stay.

As a prince, and a younger brother, Legolas had once felt his life would be committed foremost to a warrior's sacrifices, with only brief joys, and he had secretly envied a carefree existence. Now, with his travels with Gimli, his growing friendship with Arwen, and two remarkable lovers, he realized rapture. To have years of it ahead, unbroken, before death would take his mortal loves, was a daily joy almost beyond bearing.  
*******


End file.
